Scarab Ficlets
by Blue-Starlight92
Summary: Just a few drabbles set between my first story Scarab Locket, and it's sequel, Scarab Key.
1. Storms

**A/N: As I promised, a few little ficlets. I think it's only going to be two or three. Any that I write after my sequel will go in here too. You don't need to read these before you read Scarab Key (whenever I get that up) but you can if you want to.**

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Storms

I'd always been scared of storms. The thunder was so loud, and the lightening was so bright, and sometimes you could hear it crack when it flashed. But I'd always had someone with me during one. Mom, Dad, Uncle Mark, Uncle Andrew, one of them. They'd always been near, and aware of my fear. Rick and Evelyn weren't, and besides, they were with little Alex, who was sure to be crying, he was only a month old. It was nights like this that made me miss my old family. I didn't like to call them my "real" family, like some of the other adopted children at school did. Rick Evelyn, Jonathan and Alex were my real family too.

I missed home. I missed the horses, which the neighbors had bought and promised to take care of, and promised that I could come see them whenever I liked, along with the cows. I missed Dad, and Mom. I missed Uncle Andrew, and Uncle Mark. I missed how Dad would sit on the edge of my bed and talk to me about nothing, distracting me from the storm, until I fell asleep. Mom did that too, only she would sing. And when Dad was still outside, putting the horses to bed, Uncle Mark or Uncle Andrew would come in and talk too. Sometimes Uncle Andrew would sing, he had a really nice voice, and I missed hearing it.

The lack of them being there made me realize how big this bed was, and the room too. It was a room, and a bed, for an adult, not me. Even worse, the window was huge. Normally I loved the huge window at night, the moon was bright and beautiful, but now, even with the curtains over it, I could still see the lightening, and nothing could block out the thunder.

Suddenly there was a knock at my door. I wondered who it was, was it Evelyn or Rick? But how would they have guessed about my fear?

"Come in." I said weakly. My voice sounded more scared than I realized.

"Sarah?" Jonathan asked as he opened the door. "Are you okay?"

"Not really." I said.

Jonathan looked out the window. "Scared of storms?" He asked.

I nodded, and he came and sat down on the edge of my bed.

"What did your American family used to do?" He asked. That's what he called it, my "American" family.

"Momma would sing." I said. "Dad would talk, Uncle Mark would talk, and so would Uncle Andrew, but sometimes he would sing." I smiled. "He had a nice voice, I always stood next to him at church."

"What would your Uncle Andrew talk about?" Jonathan asked.

"Art, especially paintings and drawings." I said. "Once he drew my room while my mom was sitting on my bed with me, and the lightning was flashing. It's on my nightstand."

Jonathan leaned over and picked up the paper, looking at it. "He was very good." Jonathan commented. "Even Rick would say that." He put it back, and picked up the picture I had framed that was sitting there as well.

"When was this taken?" He smiled.

"When I was two." I blushed. Jonathan smiled.

Jonathan looked around the walls. "So, are these all your horses?"

"Uncle Marks and Uncle Andrews too." I yawned.

"I took riding lessons when I was twelve." Jonathan said, staring at the pictures. "I was never very good, but I loved it. Though Father had me quit a few years later, when I wasn't getting anywhere in the riding school."

"Uncle Mark taught me how to ride when I was five." I said, getting sleepy. "I rode bareback until I was seven, and could finally ride right in his saddle. I learned on Momma's horse, Cecil."

"Which one is he?" Jonathan asked, looking at the several pictures.

"The brown one, without the mud on his legs." I smiled. "The one with mud is Cody, Uncle Mark's horse."

"Who drew this one?" Jonathan pointed at one of Cecil and me, Cecil was leaning his neck down, and I was resting my cheek on his nose.

"Uncle Andrew." I said. "Neither Dad or Uncle Mark can draw very well, they never took the time for it, but Uncle Andrew did. I've got a lot of his paintings. My favorite one is right there." I pointed just above the light switch. I knew the painting scenery by heart: a willow tree by a lake, with a palomino horse drinking from it.

"It's very good." Jonathan said, staring up at it. He started to say more, but I felt myself drifting off into sleep. I tried to stay awake, but slowly I felt my eyes closing.

When I woke up, it was light outside, and the sun was shining through the curtains. I sat up, and saw than Jonathan was asleep at the foot of my bed. Smiling, I covered him with a blanket, put on my dressing gown and slippers, and walked downstairs for breakfast.


	2. Of Muddy School Uniforms

**A/N: Not my favorite, but it's pretty comical, I think. Alex is around six in this one.**

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Of Muddy School Uniforms

"Alex! Come on!" I called as I watched my little brother come down the steps of his primary school.

"The museum doesn't close for another two hours!" He said as he ran up to me.

"I know, but it's going to rain again, and I'd prefer not to get drenched." I said, taking his hand. We ran along the sidewalk, headed towards the museum.

"But you've got a raincoat." Alex was, at this point, protesting just to protest. He didn't mind running, neither did I.

"You know that Mrs. Hudson will be mad if we get another set of our uniforms muddy." I said off the top of my head. It was true; our housekeeper, though she had to wash our uniforms anyway, often complained that it took twice as long when they were muddy from us running to the museum in the rain. We started to indulge her by taking a bus home, but we still got muddy from going.

"Mrs. Hudson is always cross." Alex said.

"I know." I laughed.

We finally found a safe place to cross the street, running across the road so quickly we almost bumped into an old lady walking her dog.

"Sorry m'am." We both chanted, as we ran towards the museum.

We only had a few more blocks to go, and I thought we'd beat the rain, when the heavens opened, and we were almost instantly drenched.

"Well, that was unexpected." Alex grinned.

"Yup." I sighed. "Hey, Alex, the rain's already forming puddles." I pointed out. In fact, the sidewalk was almost one gigantic puddle now.

"I thought you said Mrs. Hudson would be cross." Alex taunted, crossing his arms like Evelyn did sometimes.

"Mrs. Hudson's always cross." I stuck my tongue out at him, and jumped in the puddle under my feet, getting him wet from the middle of his shorts down to his feet.

"Hey!" He laughed, splashing me back, getting a little bit more than the hem of my skirt wet.

"Ha ha!" I teased.

"No fair, you're taller!" He said as he splashed me back, this time getting almost half my skirt wet.

"Hey!" I yelled, as he ran off towards the museum. "I'm gonna dump a bucket of water over your head!" I yelled as I chased after him.

By the time we got home via the bus from the museum, we were both drenched, not only from the rain, but because Alex had shoved me into the splash of a double-decker bus driving through a puddle, and the water had gone almost over my head. I, in turn, had held Alex under a drain pipe until he was just as wet. Add that to our puddle splashing, and, well, we were both very muddy.

"I don't believe you two!" Evelyn scolded, though I could see she was trying to keep from laughing, as she brought us into the house. "Take off your shoes and both of you go take baths right now."

In our wet socks, we ran through the living room to the stairs just as Evelyn yelled. "You know that Mrs. Hudson's going to be extremely cross with both of you!"

"Mrs. Hudson's always cross!" We both yelled back, laughing as we ran up the stairs.


	3. Of Cryptic Messages

**A/N: This one is actually set a few years before Scarab Locket- or the first Mummy movie. Sarah is seven. There's really no reason for this- there's no major plot points solved or anything (ha ha) I just wrote this in math class while I was bored.**

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Of Cryptic Messages

"See ya later, Dad!" I called back to him as I rode off on Cecil. School had begun, again. Second grade; joy. Still, it wasn't too bad- I wouldn't have to do so many chores now that I wasn't home all day to do them.

I was happy that the sky was a little clouded over, it wasn't so hot that way. All the same, I could already feel a little bit of sweat pooling on my back- and I could also feel some on Cecil's back as well, since I rode bareback. I sighed, horse hair on my legs, again. Of course, there was always horse hair on my legs- 'cause I was still too short to use mom's old saddle. Sure, if that had bothered me, Dad would have gotten me a smaller one- but I always told him I didn't need it. Besides, I _liked _riding bareback, and the horse hair that was ever-present on my legs wasn't _really _a bother; at school or in town I could hide it with a skirt, and at home I wore jeans, which just meant that I had to wash them a lot. And then there was the little matter that the only shop anywhere near here that even carried such small saddles that could still fit a big horse like Cecil, was located in the heart of Dallas- and we didn't really feel like spending the night there- and that's exactly what we would have to do. So I went bareback all the time- and I didn't care.

As usual, there was a crowd in the little paddock that all of us school children, from the little kindergardners to the sixth graders, left our horses and ponies in during school. I always got to school kinda late- but I couldn't really help it, the ranch wasn't the closest thing in the world to town.

I opened the paddock gate, rode in quickly, and closed it before getting down off of Cecil and pulling my dress back down to the length it was meant to be. However, as I was getting off- one of my books fell out of my backpack and landed on the other side of Cecil with a dull 'thump'. I didn't bother about it- I'd get it in a second. I took the lead-rope off of Cecil's halter- I didn't ride with a bridle either- and stuffed it in my bag.

"So you actually can read these?" I heard a boy ask. Startled, I moved Cecil out of the way by patting his rump, his signal that I was fine and he could move off. Once my giant bear of a horse was gone, I found myself facing an older boy, about 12 or 13. I had seen him around school and town a few times before, but didn't know his name. He was holding the book I'd dropped- one of my mom's books that I'd inherited, about Egypt, more specifically, about mummification. Mom had been reading it while she was sick- and sometimes, in a fever, had written messages in hieroglyphs on the inside covers and title page.

"A little, yeah." I answered him.

"What's this one say, then?" His voice wasn't teasing, just curious, and he casually handed me my book back, pointing to the one he wanted translated. This one was in a rather messy scrawl that was so unlike my mother's handwriting that I doubted she'd even written it.

"It's hard to make out." I began, turning the book partially sideways to see the message better, then said. "But it looks like 'Death…is only…the beginning."

"Wow, that's cryptic." The boy said casually, and walked off, any significance to the message gone over his head. Apparently he just wanted to see if I could actually read them. He walked past me, and jumped over the paddock fence, walking into the building.

As for me, I went to class, was introduced to a teacher who's face I'd already seen a dozen times or more when she'd substituted for another of mine, and a class that contained people I already knew. We didn't really do much, for which I was glad, because I couldn't concentrate. The words in the book seemed familiar, hauntingly familiar, but I couldn't place where I'd heard them before.


End file.
